


Leap of Faith

by carmenta



Category: Coldfire - Friedman
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-01
Updated: 2006-04-01
Packaged: 2017-10-08 05:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carmenta/pseuds/carmenta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerald Tarrant faces his limits - and the lack thereof.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leap of Faith

It wasn't a battle worth mentioning. It wasn't even really worth being called a battle; more a skirmish, and unplanned at that. An unfortunate coincidence; a division of the Northern rebel vanguard and part of Gannon's core troops, both forced into the same valley by an earthquake that blocked the mountain passes.

Neither side had been prepared beyond what little warning the outriders had carried, and there had been no time for tactics. The rebels had been cut off and had attacked, desperate resignation making them bold, and Gannon had mounted a counterattack. Had the rebels known that the king himself was on the battlefield, maybe they would have taken the time to plan. Although it would not have mattered, not with these numbers. The encounter had been decided before it had even begun.

Forty dead rebels in the clearing. Dead within minutes, by the swords of Gannon's guard. A guard they had not seen coming from that direction.

Gerald Tarrant, newly appointed strategist and general to King Gannon, the only adept among the king's sorcerers, forced himself to take a good look at the silent scene before him. It hadn't been his first battle – far from that, by now – but it still marked a turning point. He didn't think the fae had been utilized before, not like this. Obscurings were for use on a small scale, or at least that was what all the texts and teachers said. They weren't supposed to be possible to implement on an entire guard division.

Whoever had been so sure about that had not considered the possibility of an adept, backed by several sorcerers. It was possible; the battlefield that stretched out before Gerald proved it.

For a moment he shivered. A new step in warfare. He had killed today; blood on his sword, from Northern rebels; blood on his tunic, his own, from a shallow cut to the shoulder. He shouldn't have been in the field himself, he knew that, but there had been no other way to ensure that the Obscuring held. And it was the Working that made him feel restless now, not the actual fighting.

It shouldn't have been possible. But it had been, and it now made him question his limits. For someone who had fought all his life to make sense of the fae before it could overwhelm him, it was a disturbing uncertainty. Full of possibilities, of course, but an uncertainty nonetheless. He had thought he knew by now what he could do with the fae.

Suppressing another shiver when he saw the currents increase in strength for a moment, he held himself still, angry for fearing them, just for a moment. This was his. His talent, his strength. He would not be scared of the fae. Even when he had almost lost control over his Working today. He would do better next time. Study the problem, experiment to reach better results. Today had been an improvisation.

Gerald Tarrant drew a deep breath and released it slowly, then cautiously reached out to the currents. The fae welcomed his touch, as it always did, warm and reassuring and so willing. Just a thought to mould it. He immersed himself into that steady flow, let the power wash through him for a moment. Still his to shape, his to wield. More so now than before.

An hour later he discussed the fight with the rest of Gannon's war council, calm and collected again. They listened as he explained the opportunities this new tactic presented and how its use was limited. How it could be used as a tool in larger battles. The other generals nodded, asked some questions, then turned their attention to what they deemed to be more important issues.

"You did not tell them that you were the force behind this," Gannon said later that night, when they were alone in the king's pavilion. "They might have listened to you otherwise."

Gerald shrugged, fingering the stem of his wine glass. "Would it have made a difference?" he asked. "I think not. They will pay attention to me and my suggestions once my hair turns grey, not before."

Gannon laughed. "Sooner than that, I should hope," he said. "You're my strategist for a reason, and they need to understand that. But you would have gotten more attention if you had told them that you did this, not the sorcerers."

"Your sorcerers had a part in it."

"But they did not come up with the idea, and they also did not coordinate it all." Gannon refilled his own glass, then did the same for Gerald. The king's squire had been dismissed earlier to grant them privacy for this meeting; doubtlessly the boy considered himself fortunate to have a free evening. Gerald remembered times when he had thought the same while he had held this particular position, not that long ago.

"Convincing your council with words is futile. I have to show them, and for that they would need to know." Pausing, Gerald raised his glass to his lips, but did not drink. He did not particularly like wine, and tonight he wanted to keep a clear head. "And I admit I do not cherish the possibility of being burned at the stake if someone decides that they are not comfortable with an adept in their midst."

"They wouldn't do that. Not to one of my staff members." Gannon hesitated, then gave Gerald a searching look. "Not unless you give them reason."

Which was what it always narrowed down to. Reason. So easily interpreted and twisted.

"I do not intend to. Which is why I have withheld some details." He met Gannon's eyes, wordlessly asking for understanding. Adeptitude was no longer a death sentence, but it was an unnecessary risk if it became publicly known. He trusted Gannon with the knowledge – had had to trust him, because some of his advice, gleaned from Divinings and Seeings, could not be explained otherwise. But he knew he was walking a thin line.

Gannon nodded, then changed the topic to the strategic implications of today's skirmish and after that to less immediate issues. Troop strength and trouble with the armourers, news from the southern provinces, recently re-conquered.

Later, lying in the darkness, the king's steady breath against his neck, Gerald tried to chase the memories of the day out of his mind. Control, so this would not happen again. He needed to learn more, and that was impossible to do in secrecy. The fae could be a tool, a weapon far beyond what it was used for now. He was convinced of that, but he needed to prove it. To Gannon, to the fools in the council. To the sorcerers who still dithered over every Working. To those who feared the fae and those who Worked it. And of course they feared, and they would fear it even more if they had seen today's battleground.

A power to be harnessed. There to be used, to be formed to his wish. As long as he dared.


End file.
